Four Card Studs (rev)
by Mice
Summary: Hank McCoy (Beast) tells the story of his first lover at the first poker game at Xavier's (featuring the original X-Men). (Revised for polish.)


**Four Card Studs**

**By Mice**

_**Many moons ago...**_

Charles Xavier only had five students. One of them a polite, well behaved young lady and four of them were terrifying teenage boys.

"I will see your Oreo and raise you...three Chips Ahoy."

"Chips Ahoy?" Hank McCoy scoffed. "I'm showing two pair high and the only thing Warren Worthington, millionaire playboy at large, can throw at me is three measly Chips Ahoy."

Warren cooly pointed where Bobby Drake, the youngest of them all, was seated. "Well then, can you tell the boy over there to stop eating his winnings."

"Bobby, stop eating your winnings!"

With guilt and chocolate on his lips, Bobby protested. "But they're so tasty!"

"Yes, but we can't cash out your digestive remains." Warren explained as he looked for another ally. "Scott!"

"I might've eaten a Milano," Scott said, voice low and doing as badly as Warren. "Don't regret it."

"Look, I've kept an inventory of everything I've eaten," Bobby Drake held up his impressive napkin of accounting to Warren. "And I'm still winning!"

Suffered with the indignity that a suburban kid had most of the Oreos and all of the remaining Milanos, Warren pressed on with the game. "Then are you in or are you folding?"

"Fold!" Bobby answered and split one of his one of his Milano's with Scott.

Hank flipped over the remaining three cards, much to Warren's disgust. He grabbed the small kitty of chocolate chips and creamy middles; quickly smacking Bobby's hand away from a fudge covered graham cracker.

Warren leaned over to Scott and whispered. "Why did we have to let the icicle into this club?"

Scott took a bite out of his newly acquired Milano. "Jean made us."

"But the club name was the "No Bobby Drake Club"!"

Scott looked at him through his deep red glasses and put his hand on Warren's shoulder. "Not anymore."

"What?"

"Jean told Bobby a lie."

Warren turned back to Bobby, with a fine fool's smudge of fudge around his mouth, asking Hank, "So, you really think I could be the fourth stud in "Four Card Studs"?"

Not only was going to be spending every Friday night with Bobby Drake, he would spend it playing poker with the farm boy and the orphan. "I miss our old club, Scott."

Scott shuffled the cards.

Hank smiled patiently at Bobby. "I think you definitely have potential. After all, we are to be a club of four, young, virile young men and from where I sit, there are only two here who preside in such a club."

Warren and Scott quickly threw on separate looks of panic.

Hank sighed. "Scott, you cannot tell me that things have progressed so deftly in the courting of Lady Grey."

Scott stared down his teammates best he could behind thick ruby quartz glasses. "There's been no sign that it's okay for me to take things that far."

"Very well," Hank said as he picked up his cards. "Before your next date, I fashion a sign to point at Jean that says, "Do Jean." Would that be a good enough sign for you?"

"I'll tell her it was your idea," Scott offered.

Warren ruffled Scott's hair, confident in his status as a man. "Don't worry, Slim. I'm sure if you're patient, you'll get some before you're on Social Security."

Hank sighed again, picking up his cards. "Copulating with coked up socialites hardly seems fantastically manly, either, Warren."

Warren puffed up his chest proudly. "I'm already in the double digits when it comes that area."

"The only thing double digit-ed about your number is the grade in high school they are currently in," Hank shot back, having practiced that phrase earlier and just in case. "When I referred to two men possessing a studly nature, I was counting myself and my reflection in the mirror over there."

Bobby watched Hank, who was a huge, hulking god with two, squabbling kids. "So, what about you?"

Warren, wounded, agreed with his former annoyance while throwing in his bet into the kitty. "Yeah, Hank. Why do get to claim such superiority?"

"Show us your cards, Hank," Scott said in terrible humor.

Hank smiled to himself. "It was the summer before I came here -"

Warren smirked. "May I add that "with yourself" does not count?"

Hank threw an animal cookie at Warren's head. "I was trying to save up money to go to college and there was a farm about twenty miles away from my parents who needed a hired hand."

"Did you wear overalls?" Bobby asked innocently. From safe, suburban Long Island, he didn't know what went on at farms, but had a romantic dream of wearing overalls and playing in mud since he was three.

Scott shook his head while dealing out a few cards. "Bobby-"

"No, I want to know, too! Were there overalls?" Warren was also a city dweller and willingly accepted that he had in common with Bobby - they came from the same islands.

"On occasion." Hank answered as he raised his bet. "She was a young teacher whose husband had run the farm, but he had become quite ill the spring before and had passed on. She was most likely to sell the farm that year, but wanted to make sure that the last crop he put in would be harvested.

"I was barely sixteen and when she took my hand that first time, I was a nervous wreck-"

"Hey, how old was she?"

Scott folded. "I could hit Warren for you."

Hank waved off the idea and answered the question. "She was about thirty-five."

"Was she fat? Ugly? Hairy? Smelly? A dwarf? Dis-"

"If he keeps interrupting, please smack Mr. Worthington for me, Mr. Summers," Hank advised. "Now, it should be known that Mrs. Weathers was quite attractive. Brunette with soft hazel eyes and bosom to match. Legs that were the envy of every girl at my high school."

"And she had sex with you?"

"Mr. Summers?"

Smack.

Huff.

"...I'll shut up."

"Thank you. As I was saying, it was the end of my first week there and she took my hand in the kitchen - where she had just scrubbed the floor with something that smelled of lemon - and she gently - ever so slightly -

"Caressed your chest?"

"- ever so lovingly -

"Grabbed your ass?"

"- ever so-"

"Grabbed your package-OW! Scott!"

"Wasn't me."

"Bobby?!"

Bobby folded. "Let the man speak, Trump, Jr. - turn the river, Hank!"

"-she kissed me." Hank grinned as he revealed the Queen of Spades next to the Two of Clubs and the King of Diamonds. "Then, when I didn't pull away, she led me to her bedroom with the utmost urgency.

"Now, I did say Mrs. Weathers was a teacher...she taught English in my high school. When we made it to her bed, half clothed, fully desired, I was insistent on the end result...she forced me to stop at every part - she refused to let me go without quoting, and then citing the original speaker. Starting down her neck with the first kiss, one Marcus Aurelius, progress down one inch. Second kiss, one Mark Twain, progress down one inch. Third kiss, one Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch...down one inch. It was an insane process that taxed my mind. Slowly, my lips and hands were able to explore this body - the pace was agony, but the journey was an education.

"Then we finally, FINALLY got down to the business of pleasure, the testimony of release-"

Warren laughed as he called Hank's bluff. "I knew it! I knew you were a minute man!" Warren laid down two Kings and two Fours. It gave him a full house.

Hank laid down his hand. A Jack of Clubs, Queen of Diamonds, Queen of Clubs. If his last card was a Jack, it would beat Warren's full house. "It was the first known earthquake in Dunfee, Illinois."

Queen of Hearts.

Four of a kind.

_**No moons ago...(five minutes ago...)**_

Warren marched into the lab carrying a mysterious package. Scott was with him, though had no idea what was in the package, just that Warren had insisted that it was important - it was original team business.

That answer satisfied and terrified Scott.

The one other question he asked was, "Why isn't Bobby here for this?"

Warren couldn't look him in the red glasses. "I can't break the poor kid's heart."

They arrived at Hank's lab and Warren took the distinction of knocking on the lab door.

Hank opened the door and was surprised to see the two of them. "Are we under attack?"

"No," they answered in unison.

"Then did someone send out for Chinese and not ask me what I wanted?"

Again, "No."

Hank sighed and let them in. "Well, then, at least it's not bad news. What can I help the two of you with?"

Warren went to a table and uncovered the package that was in his hands. "Does this look familiar to you, Henry Phillip McCoy?"

Hank paled best he could at the sight of the green and gold bound book. "Oh my stars and garters...that's my yearbook!"

"Scott, do you remember a night where Hank basically said he was the only real man at Xaviers?"

"Warren, what's this about?" Scott asked while taking the book.

"How did you get my yearbook?"

Warren held up the yearbook. "**This** is the yearbook of our dear Dr. McCoy's graduating year. In it, there's a picture of someone he proceeded to tell a sordid story about and made claims to sexual gratification."

Scott opened the book up to the page Warren had book marked and immediately closed it. "No. Did not want to see that."

Warren took the book and opened it up for Hank. "How old would you say the woman in that picture is, Hank?"

"Warren-"

"If you'd like, we can ask the carbon dating machine you have back there."

"You can't ask a carbon dating machine questions like that!"

"Yes I can! I'll go up, ask, "Hello, carbon dating, who is younger? The woman who took Hank's virginity or Grandma Moses?" And the carbon dating machine will say, "That thing was around when the universe was created!" I mean, really, Hank - you couldn't have done what you said without breaking both her hips and destroying her pancreas!"

Hank hung his head low until a very welcome voice came into the room. "Hey guys, what's going on? Why does Warren have a book? Hey, can I have that book?"

"Bobby, now's not the-" Warren began to explain when Bobby took the book from his hands.

"Hey! Hank! It's your old high school!" Bobby looked at the page. "Hey, Hank, you're right - Mrs. Weathers' mother in-law is ancient!"

Warren grabbed the book back. "Let me see that!" He skimmed its pages. "This is the only Mrs. Weathers in the alumni!"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "It's like you didn't even try to listen to the story, Warren! Hank's Mrs. Weathers didn't teach when he was a senior. Here." Bobby went to a book shelf in Hank's lab and opened it up to the alumni page. "This is Hank's junior yearbook."

"How are you people getting my yearbooks? And how long has that been in my lab?"

Bobby waved off Hank and opened the yearbook to the page that was bookmarked. "See, Warren? That's Hank's Mrs. Weathers."

Scott and Warren stared at the page.

"I'm terrible at face recognition, but she looks a little like Parker Posey," said Scott as Warren ripped it from Scott's hands.

"Let me see that...!"

"That's what I said, Scott!" Bobby smiled at Hank. "See, I told you."

Scott gave Hank a thumb's up.

Hank tsk'd. "Really, Warren, I'm really surprised that you would do such a thing!"

Warren returned the yearbook back to him. "I owe you an apology, Hank. And you should know...she really does look like Parker Posey and I should know because we almost hooked up." He exited saying, "See you at the game later tonight."

When Warren was out of earshot, Scott leaned over. "Yeah, sorry about that. Are we still on for after the game?"

"The "No Warren Worthington Allowed" club meeting slash barbecue?" Bobby piped up.

"Paige is making ribs," Hank added. "Don't miss it."

Scott nodded. "Do you think I should take some home to Jean?"

"Do you need me to make you a sign?"

"...you keep offering that but you never come through."

After Scott left, Bobby finally turned to Hank and hit him in the arm excitedly. "I told you not to be surprised when Warren did that!"

"Good ol' predictable Warren."

"I told you that photoshopping your yearbook was a good idea!"

"Yes, Bobby, you are brilliant. That excellent ahead-of-the-curve thinking. Why don't we put you in charge of more strategizing?"

"Hey, you still promise not to tell the guys how I looked up Mrs. Weathers and even after meeting her, I still made a pass at her when I went home with you that one Thanksgiving, right?"

"Ah, yes. I remember now." Hank smiled. "Robert, I would never reveal that as to do so would to betray my legacy."

"And, more importantly, make Warren right. That's rule one of the club." Bobby waved as he left the lab, chanting. "RIBS! RIBS! RIBS!"

Alone, Hank opened his senior yearbook at looked at his older first lady love. "Thank you, Corinne." He put the book away and opened his doctored yearbook. "And thank you, Parker Posey."


End file.
